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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748148">sugar never was so sweet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunder_and_stars/pseuds/cascrane'>cascrane (thunder_and_stars)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all the while the planet circles round the sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>no sleep in the city of dreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:27:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunder_and_stars/pseuds/cascrane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcos is sitting on a crate behind the table he has set up in the big greenmarket, jars neatly labeled and stacked on the table in front of him. His shirt has a bee embroidered into the pocket, courtesy of his sister Sofia, who is supposed to be helping him run the booth but had to go do something else.</p>
<p>Now, he’s waiting for his brother to show up, which isn’t going to happen any time soon, because Ale hasn’t been on time for anything in his life since he was ten and Danny was in charge of getting him everywhere.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>all the while the planet circles round the sun [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107590</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the wild winds around you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Marcos is sitting on a crate behind the table he has set up in the big greenmarket, jars neatly labeled and stacked on the table in front of him. His shirt has a bee embroidered into the pocket, courtesy of his sister Sofia, who is supposed to be helping him run the booth but had to go do something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, he’s waiting for his brother to show up, which isn’t going to happen any time soon, because Ale hasn’t been on time for anything in his life since he was ten and Danny was in charge of getting him everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny’s working on the rooftops today, and their parents are still doing packaging, mostly, and Marcos is sitting in the crowded farmers’ market in the middle of the bustling city of metal and lights, rapping his fingers on the edge of the wooden table, right next to the lockbox where they keep all their money, the key to it tied around his wrist on a woven string bracelet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little boy with a thousand freckles and two missing front teeth stops by their booth, dragging an older girl, probably a sister behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hiya,” the boy says, smiling up at Marcos brightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Marcos says, then glances up at the older girl, who he realizes he recognizes. “Hi, Ru.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to see you, Marcos,” Ru greets. Ru works on a farm with two other teenagers and a couple of adults, and she usually runs one of the booths down at the far end of the market for the farm. Marcos knows this because Ale is good friends with Ru, so he always comes back with fresh produce he got for half price.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you seen my brother?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Ru says. “We were walking around, seeing what we could see. This is my little cousin Neeley. He wanted to see some more of the market, so I got Ben to cover me while I show him around. I’ll send Ale over to you if I see him, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Marcos says. “It’s nice to meet you, Neeley. Do you wanna try some honey made right here in the city?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can make honey in the city?” Neeley asks in faint childish wonder and amazement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Marcos says. “We’ve got beehives on rooftops throughout the city. It’s the best honey you can get, since it’s local.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoa,” Neeley says, then nods excitedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos glances up to Ru for permission, and she nods, so he hands the young boy a little spoon with a dollop of honey on the end of it. Neeley sticks it into his mouth and smiles brightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s real good,” he says. “Thanks, Marcos.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime, kid,” Marcos says, and he trades Ru one of their little jars of honey for an apple she pulls out of her pocket. “I’ll see you around, Ru.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember to send people who want apples to go with their honey over to our stall,” she teases as she walks away with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A second later, Neeley comes running back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mister Marcos?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Neeley?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you work with the other guy selling honey from the neighborhood?” Neeley asks, as Ru doubles back to catch the kid’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t,” Marcos says. “But I’ll definitely talk to him later, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Neeley says. “Bye again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ru laughs softly as they walk away again, this time not returning a second later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty minutes, eight samples, and seven customers later, Ale runs over to the booth, drops his backpack that swings wildly from his shoulder, and takes up residence on the stool next to Marcos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for showing up,” Marcos teases softly, and Ale scowls and then laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to lend Sof my laptop last night and then I had to charge it this morning so I could turn in my paper and I missed the bus so I had to take my bike and then there was nowhere to lock it and-” Ale rambles until Marcos cuts him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Ale. You’re covering my shift this weekend, though,” Marcos says, and Ale nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see the redhead selling urban honey six stalls down?” Ale asks, instead of doing anything to help their sales.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Marcos says. “Do you know him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tag says his name’s Ellis. I don’t think he’s got a big operation, either, since he’s barely got anything on the table. I think he only has one or two hives,” Ale says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll talk to him later, I guess,” Marcos says. “Neeley mentioned him earlier when he showed up with Ru.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ru was here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was,” Marcos confirms, taking another bite of his half-eaten apple that he had gotten from her. “Said Ben’s down at their booth covering for her while she shows her cousin around. How old’s the guy selling honey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go talk with Ben,” Ale says, not answering the question and starting to stand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not right now you’re not,” Marcos counters. “How old’s the guy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Ale asks. “Oh, he’s about your age. I want to ask Ben about sales, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk to him later. Try to sell some honey. I’m going to go see about the kid selling honey, after we close up. Right now, we’re going to stay here and make money before you have to get another bike messenger job,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Ale asks, as Marcos stands up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to call Ma about our stocks, update her on our sales, and talk to my friends around the corner. Stay here,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m older than you,” Ale calls after Marcos as he steps into the flood of people moving through the farmers’ market. “I should be the one in charge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos flashes him a bright smile as he disappears into the crowds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The call to his mother is reasonably short, since she says she has to go less than a minute in, and he doesn’t get a chance to mention sales, which is probably fine, since he’ll see her later and they can talk about it then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s thinking about selling some of their honey out through their friends at the greenmarket for them to sell in their other stores, since Ru’s farm has a local store upstate where their farm actually is, and the Aspernes run a bakery in the city.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps around the corner of the L shaped rows of stalls and sees Hollis, one of the youngest people who works in the market, in their booth with Jack and Leah. They sell plants, mostly, and Hollis reads behind the table when sales get slow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to them is the Newtown Bakery, run by Raven and Nicky Asperne and Key, who’s Marcos’s age and one of his good friends within the market.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Most of the teenagers and young adults in the market all know each other, since so much of the space is overwhelmed by older adults and purists who believe that kids who grew up with cell phones and computers in school have no right working in a farmer’s market, and almost everyone with a booth is a regular, so they see each other six times a week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Marcos,” Key says with a smile, as Raven lets him step behind the booth to talk. “Is Ellis working with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why does everyone keep talking to me about Ellis?” Marcos groans with a smile. “No, I don’t know him. Why do you know him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s new,” Key says. “Showed up yesterday, when your brothers were working. Helped him set up his booth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re too nice to people,” Marcos says, and Key shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are plenty of beekeepers in the market, which means there are at least six stalls that sell honey, plus more that occasionally add honey to their larger stock. For the three years that Marcos has been working at his family’s stall, though, there’s never been another urban beekeeper selling honey. There’s one community garden and one rooftop garden, and everyone else comes down from upstate or out on Long Island.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a little weird to have competition from within the city, Marcos thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should talk to him,” Key says, and Maze groans again, which just makes Key laugh. “I think he inherited the hives or something. He’d probably merge into your family’s group, if you asked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop being logical,” Marcos accuses with the same smile. “Anyway, I’m going to talk to him at pack up probably. I’m heading to the library after, if you want to come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You leaving Ale to haul your stuff on his bike?” Key asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Marcos says. “I think Zach’s supposed to be coming by with the van, but if he doesn’t, it’s Ale’s problem, since he was late.” Zach is Marcos’s stepfather, and he appreciates that nobody pushes him to refer to him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, since he has -- had -- a father already, who died, and Zach isn’t him, isn’t trying to replace him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key smiles again and nods. “I’ll find you later, then,” Key agrees, and Marcos waves to Raven and Nicky as he steps back into the mass of people wandering through the stalls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Marcos,” Jack calls, as he passes by, jogging out of the tent to catch the teenager’s arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Marcos says. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could you maybe come by our place sometime this week, check on our bees?” Jack asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos smiles. “Yeah, any time, as long as you give me a ride out there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Jack says. “I’ll let you know if there’s any specific time that works best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You do that,” Marcos says. “And tell Hollis that Key and I are going to the library after pack up, if they want to come along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack nods, and Marcos returns to his family’s stall, where Ale is resting his chin in his hand, elbow on the edge of the table, looking bored. Marcos hits the back of Ale’s head lightly as he takes his seat once more, though he does notice that Ale has sold a handful of jars of honey and given out half a dozen samples.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Ale says. “How’s everyone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Marcos says. “Lancasters asked me to check on their bees sometime. Key and Hol and I are going to the library after pack up, once I talk to the new honey guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you talked to them about your idea?” Ale asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos shakes his head. “Not yet. I was thinking about bringing it up to them at the library, so they can talk to the adults about it. I’m planning on talking to Ru and Ben later, see what they think about the idea, when I go to pick up fixings for dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought that was my job,” Ale says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ma gave me a list,” Marcos says. “You can go if you want, though. You’re subbing in for Sof, that’s why she gave it to me. If you do head over there, though, talk to them about putting up some kind of affiliation signs, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Ale says, cutting himself off to sell two jars of honey to a man and his daughter, taking the change Marcos offers him and passing it on to the customers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos hands the man a business card and offers the girl a sticker of a bee that matches the one embroidered onto his shirt. She sticks it on her sweater with a bright smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know the layout of this market?” the man asks. “We’re not from around here, and we’ve gotten pretty lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you looking for?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some fruit, maybe some bread,” the man says. “Maple syrup, if that’s around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Newtown Bakery’s just around the corner,” Marcos says. “Right next to the flower shop. Other way, down at the end here, is Westbrook Farms, which has all types of produce and seasonal maple syrup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” the man says, and Marcos smiles as they leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re good at repping your friends,” Ale says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, we have an agreement,” Marcos says. “I send folks over to them, they send people down to us. It helps us all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re growing into a good businessman,” Ale says, and Marcos shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just good at making agreements,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think business is?” Ale counters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Marcos laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Ale runs off to talk to Ben, Marcos sells half their products -- he thinks, sometimes, that people buy things because they feel bad for the teenager sitting alone in the market, which, if that’s the case, he should really work along more often -- and Ale comes back with a small carton of strawberries and a bottle of apple cider, and Marcos steals half of the berries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Strawberries aren’t actually berries,” Marcos says, and Ale rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are not having this discussion again,” he says, shutting down the impending conversation before it can start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to go find Ru, you can,” Marcos offers, when twenty minutes have passed in a slow lull. “I can handle the stall for now, and I’ll call you if I need you back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Ale says, quickly standing. “You’re the best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be back to pack up!” Marcos calls after him, ignoring the weird look he gets from a young woman walking past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the market clears out and closes, Marcos pats Ale’s shoulder and leaves him to pack up their things for the time being, going to find the new kid in the market.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Marcos says, leaning against the lamppost as the boy packs up his table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name’s Marcos. I haven’t seen you around yet. Ellis, right?” he asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“El,” the boy corrects. “You sell honey, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Key told me about you earlier this morning,” El admits. “Wanted to go say hi, but I didn’t know how much you’d appreciate me suddenly being on your territory.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plenty of people here sell honey,” Marcos says. “Do you want a hand with pack up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’d be nice,” El says. “Jars go in that crate, the table comes to pieces and gets tied up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maze starts moving around, neatly stacking the jars away, tucking the papers down the side of the crate, folding the table cloth and placing it atop the crate, tying it across the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” El says as he ties the broken down table with a rope and puts the crate on the back of his bike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” Marcos says. “How’d you get into selling honey anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid from my newest house has two hives on their roof. Started teaching me about it,” El says. “Seemed cool. Said I was welcome to come here to sell honey as long as I split the profits with him. He can’t keep it up once school restarts, so I’m out of here next week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to the library with Key and this other kid Hollis,” Marcos offers abruptly. “Do you want to come?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t,” El says softly. “I have to get home with my stuff. I feel like I recognize you, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you go to my school, actually,” Marcos says, and El nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re in my physics class,” El says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, then, I’ll see you in physics class, El,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait,” El calls faintly after him. “Do you want to maybe, I don’t know, get pizza or something, one of these days?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Marcos says with a smile. “I’d like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” El asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll be here,” Marcos says. “I should go help my brother pack up. Do you want to come meet him? It’s nice to know some of the other market workers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” El agrees, wheeling his bike over as he follows Marcos, the table strung over his shoulders like a backpack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ale, this is El,” Marcos says, as he reaches the table. “El, this is my older brother, Alejandro Sosa.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t call me Alejandro,” Ale requests, before El can say anything. “Everyone calls me Ale. It’s nice to meet you. Em, finish packing up while I go call Zach, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Marcos says. “See you tomorrow, El.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you,” El says, climbing onto his bike and taking off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Mami,” Ale mumbles over the phone. Marcos can’t hear the other side of the conversation. “Yes, Mami, I know. We’re just about done here. No, Mami, I didn’t abandon Marcos to pack up, I stepped away to call to ask if Zach is coming with the van. Thank you, Mami.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ale turns off his phone and drops it into his pocket. “Danny’s going to come by,” he announces to Marcos. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Marcos says, packing some more jars into crates. “I’m gonna go find the others, then. Save me some of Ru and Ben’s stuff, huh? I’ll bring some bread back tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Ale says, and Marcos runs off to find his friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key and Hollis are sitting on the table of the Lancaster’s stall. Hollis is cradling a tiny succulent in their lap, and Key is reading through the last couple pages of his most recent library book so he can return it when they head over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Marcos says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want some bread?” Key offers, not looking up from his book. “Or half a dozen cut flowers that only have another day left in them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take the bread, but I don’t have any use for the flowers, thanks,” Marcos says. “Nice plant, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a firestorm sedum,” Hollis says softly. “Leah says I can keep it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready to go?” Key asks, closing his now-finished book and tucking it into the pocket of his hoodie, which has seemingly endless space in its pockets. Raven passes Marcos a paper bag of bread and a single chocolate cinnamon cookie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Maze says. “Yeah, I’m ready. See you guys tomorrow.” He waves to all the older shop workers, even though Raven is only 22 as the oldest, and they walk the four blocks to the library in warm silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hollis is gone the second they reach the library, the scrawny kid lost in the expanse of shelves. Marcos leans against the counter and waits as Key returns his book, then follows him through alphabetically arranged fiction and into the sea of the Dewey Decimal system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they see Hollis again, the three of them have crowded around one of the tables, each with their own stack of books. Hollis is reading about bees -- they’re interested in knowing about what everyone else does -- and Key is flipping through an old history book that he says he has to write a paper on for school, since he does partially remote school, which means he has to turn in one long assignment for each class at the end of every week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos does the same thing when he has to work for long stretches of time, and their school could not care less, because the teachers all have about fifty students and don’t know any of their names, and half the kids cut classes to work and only turn in their assignments when they do show up. Marcos is reading a story in Spanish, and he has a stack of books about science for a mixture of schoolwork and genuine interest on the table next to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time it gets dark, the library is closing, and the librarian checks their books out to them and ushers them out the door as he locks up behind them, and Hollis flashes a smile to Marcos as they run off to catch the train, saying it’s going to rain soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos walks with Key to his subway stop, then walks himself home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Hollis is always right when it comes to the weather, and Marcos gets soaked as he ducks between awnings and doorways until he finally makes it home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ale laughs at him from the dryness of their apartment, and Maze sticks out his tongue at his older brother as he drops his backpack, which is luckily waterproof, since it’s filled with papers and books and his phone, and grabs a towel to dry off his hair as it drips into his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their dinner is salad, courtesy of Ru and the farm kids, soup made by Marcos’s mother, and the bread that Raven had given them. Marcos pitches his idea for selling more honey, and his mother nods along and looks thoughtful. Danny reports that the hives uptown are still doing well, since he spent his day up there, and Sofie brings her laptop to the dinner table, which the adults frown at but don’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie spends the meal working on an essay for her philosophy class, and Marcos reads one of the science books that he needs for school, and nobody bothers them as they do so. Ale and Sofie are nineteen, but they work, which means that they’re both enrolled in online classes at community college, since they both wanted to get their degrees. It also means that, like Marcos, most of their time is dedicated to work or school and little else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos is focusing on his book -- despite what Ale says, he finds physics interesting -- until he hears Ale mention El’s name and his attention snaps to his older brother.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s this new kid selling honey,” Ale is saying. “He’s based in the city too, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s nice,” Marcos says softly. “And he’s only going to be around for the week of break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Imagine having a break,” Ale jokes, prodding at Sofie’s knee with his foot as she types furiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He goes to my school,” Marcos adds, as a faint afterthought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like him,” Ale teases, and Marcos flushes red and blinks rapidly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Marcos says, which isn’t actually a denial, because as much as he wants to vehemently deny it, Ale will never let him live it down. “He’s just nice. He’s a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re such a dork,” Ale teases him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, like you haven’t been pining after your best friend for two years,” Danny tells Ale, coming to Marcos’s defense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have not!” Ale squeaks, his voice rising about four octaves. He mutters a faint curse, which gets him a look from their mother, and then puts his head on the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should just ask her out,” Danny says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ale protests. “I don’t wanna mess things up. Besides, she lives upstate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see her almost every day,” Danny counters. “You won’t mess things up. And, most importantly, I’m tired of your pining when we’re working shifts together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate this family,” Ale mutters into the wood of the table. “Why does nobody do this to Sofie or you, Danny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because Sofie and Danny are functional,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The adults are, wisely, staying out of this conversation, and Zach has simply left the room as their mother excused herself to the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sof’s the gayest disaster I’ve ever met,” Ale grumbles, and Sofie looks up from her laptop for exactly as long as it takes to hit Ale in the side of the head with the back of her hand, then immediately goes back to writing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Danny stifles a laugh in his sleeve, and Marcos grins at the expression on Ale’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m quitting this family,” Ale announces, pushing his chair back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We love you too,” Sofie calls after him, eyes never leaving her now mostly written paper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s working the market tomorrow?” Danny asks. Marcos raises a hand as he takes a bite out of a roll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not ditching me to sit there alone again,” Marcos says, after he finishes eating. “I need to be able to walk around and talk to people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll come,” Sofie says. “I might be reading most of the time, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we need to set up a book tent for you and Key and Hollis so you can read undisturbed,” Marcos jokes, and Sofie smiles as she closes her laptop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later that night, when Danny has gone to sleep -- he has to go and do things at five in the morning, because he’s crazy and likes waking up at dawn -- and Sofie and Marcos are standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes they cleared away from the table, they talk about things that Danny ignores.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you going to ask her out?” Marcos asks, as he scrubs down a plate. Sofie makes a noise and almost shatters the glass she’s drying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re not doing this,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d do it to me if the roles were reversed,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but the only person you know who’s your age is Key and he’s aromantic, which means I can’t annoy you about it, which should mean that you can’t annoy me,” Sofie argues warmly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve loved her almost as long as Ale has loved Ru,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She doesn’t like me,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone likes you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She doesn’t like me like that,” Sofie argues.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know that,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Em, I do,” she says. “She’s been in love with Raven since they were kids.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should still talk to her,” he says, far gentler.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not ready to ruin one of my only friendships,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re as bad as Ale,” Marcos grumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Sofie says. “Tell me about El.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re deflecting, Sof,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too bad. Tell me about him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s my age. He’s new, and he only works on breaks. He just moved in with a kid who has a recreational hive, and decided to try to make some money,” Marcos says. “Key thinks he’s nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That means he’s got to be a good kid,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said he was nice too,” Marcos protests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think everyone is nice,” Sofie says. “You thought Mark Jackson was nice until he tried to put your head through a wall. Key has actual instincts. You just have optimism.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You suck,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Sofie says with a shrug. “Now, wash those dishes faster so we can get more than two hours of sleep before the market opens, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to get pizza with El sometime this week,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got a date,” Sofie teases with a laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve known him for </span>
  <em>
    <span>one day</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He is maybe a friend, at most,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Sofie says. “It’ll be good for you to make some more friends who are actually your age.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, like you have so many friends,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need a lot of friends. I have a twin brother to annoy the hell out of me and drag me along with his friends,” Sofie says, and really, Marcos doesn’t know how to argue with that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. crystallizing clear as day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Marcos gives Sofie a very familiar look, and she turns her attention back to her book, refusing to meet her brother’s gaze.</p>
<p>“Don’t say a word,” she warns him, and he sighs but doesn’t say anything as he pins up their sign and buttons his shirt, which he had left hanging open over his faded t-shirt as he helped everyone with setting up their stalls and tents.</p>
<p>“Have you seen Mal around recently?” Marcos asks, instead of voicing the thought that presses against his teeth on the tip of his tongue.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey,” Sofie says, looking up from her book. Marcos has finished unpacking their stall, and he’s left to help some of the others, so it’s just Sofie sitting behind the table, trying to finish reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>Meditations</span>
  </em>
  <span> so she can write her paper on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, Sofia,” Leah says, leaning on her palms on the edge of the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When was the last time you heard someone call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sofia</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Sofie asks with a well worn smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your brother is hanging around my tent, so I’m here to hang out with you until the market opens,” Leah says. “Do you want a bagel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have more than one bagel in your backpack?” Sofie asks. Leah smiles. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raven insisted,” Leah says, pulling a paper bag out of her backpack and handing a bagel from within it to Sofie. She pulls out another, sinks her teeth into it, and shoves everything else back into her bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Sofie says, as she tears off a piece of the bagel and eats it. “I forgot how good Raven’s bagels are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They should own a bagel shop, not a bakery,” Leah agrees. “Would probably make more money, too, with the way the city is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s your tent doing?” Sofie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty good. ‘Lis gets really excited about the plants we sell, which means they talk about it with customers, which means plenty of people buy them,” Leah says. “I think all the minors who work stalls here make more sales.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a good theory,” Sofie agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure the adults feel bad for them and the kids just like them better,” Leah says. “I’ve been working here since I was fifteen and my grandfather was still overseeing us. It’s a well tested theory.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s college treating you?” Sofie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Leah says. “I got to choose most of my classes, so I skipped taking a single math course and I’m taking poetry and some sciences.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I could take a poetry class,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You still writing verse?” Leah asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, stories mostly. Hollis is always talking about your poems,” Sofie says. “That kid worships you and Jack.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leah laughs faintly. “Hollis loves pretty much everyone,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Jack and Hollis too, if they want,” Sofie offers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would be nice,” Leah says. “I’ll ask Jack and Hollis if they want to come and I’ll text you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you read this book?” Sofie asks, holding up her copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Meditations</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Leah says. “It doesn’t look like a fun read, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Sofie agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos chooses that moment to return, half running, hair messy and smile bright as the sun. “Hey, Leah. Hi, Sof. Market’s opening in a few minutes,” he reports.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Marcos,” Leah says. “I should get back. I’ll talk to you guys later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then she’s gone, and Marcos gives Sofie a very familiar look, and she turns her attention back to her book, refusing to meet her brother’s gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t say a word,” she warns him, and he sighs but doesn’t say anything as he pins up their sign and buttons his shirt, which he had left hanging open over his faded t-shirt as he helped everyone with setting up their stalls and tents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you seen Mal around recently?” Marcos asks, instead of voicing the thought that presses against his teeth on the tip of his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not in a while,” Sofie admits. “He’s usually everywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe he and Cyr moved spots,” Marcos offers, but Sofie frowns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt it. Cy likes this place best,” Sofie says. “I don’t know. Hollis might have heard from them. Don’t they play cards with Cyr and Will under the tents when the lull sets in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sometimes,” he agrees. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leah’s going to come over for dinner tonight,” Sofie tells him. “And maybe Jack and Hollis.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you going to just ask her out?” Marcos asks again, since the customers haven’t started filing in yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never,” Sofie says. “We talked about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did we talk about how you love her and it hurts me to watch you pine this hard?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” she says, hitting his knee. “Besides, Ale is so much worse with Ru.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but Ale and Ru still hang out as friends constantly, so they’re a lot less insufferable and a lot harder to tease about it,” Marcos says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ru’s in love with him,” Sofie says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how do you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I talk to people,” Sofie protests. “She wanted to know if he was dating anyone since they don’t really talk about that type of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos laughs. “I bet Ale hates that,” he says. Sofie shrugs and smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He doesn’t need to know what I talk to Ru about,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should invite Raven to dinner,” Marcos says, changing the topic abruptly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a terrible person,” Sofie accuses softly. “Besides, if I invite Raven and Leah, I’m also inviting Jack and Hollis and Nicky and Key, and Mami will kill me if I bring six more people into our house for dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Marcos agrees. “Do you want to come with me when I go out to the Lancaster’s place the day after tomorrow to check on their bees?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did they get bees?” Sofie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure they’re wild bees, not a hive,” Marcos says. “Hollis just likes watching them and Jack wants to make sure they’re doing okay pollinating.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Sofie says, then closes her book and snaps her focus up as a woman walks over to their table. “Good morning,” she greets. “Would you like to try some urban honey, made right here in the city?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos has to stifle a laugh at Sofie’s ability to transition into such a formal mode the second she sees a customer, but he covers it up as a bright smile and offers a business card to the woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sofie manages to sell the woman three jars of honey, which, really, is more honey than any one person could possibly need, but Sofie has a way of charming people into sales that border on ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their next three customers were sent down from Ru and Ben at the Westbrook Farms tent, and Marcos tells them that the honey is great with apples, and points them down towards the Aspernes’ bakery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At one point, El shows up, copper hair and constellations of freckles and a warm smile that reaches his amber eyes, and leans against the post behind the table to talk to Marcos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s running your table?” Marcos asks, and El shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Key said he’d keep an eye on it, since nobody seems to be buying. How are your sales so good?” El asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sofie’s a charmer,” Marcos teases. “And you look like a delinquent, in that black hoodie. It’s spring. Wear a t-shirt or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s the reason,” El says, and this time, it’s Marcos’s turn to shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have a sales pitch?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re helping the enemy,” Sofie teases in a whisper, and he ignores her. The smile on El’s face tells them that he also definitely heard them, and Sofie goes back to reading so she can pretend she isn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I have a sales pitch?” El asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you can make sales,” Marcos says. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve sold one jar of honey today,” El says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve only sold, what, maybe a dozen? And this is our actual job,” Marcos says. “Family business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a fun family business,” El says, and Marcos nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should come see our hives sometime. We’re all over the city,” Marcos adds, stepping away from the table to keep talking while Sofie talks to an interested party. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” El agrees with a smile. “That sounds nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When pack up ends, El comes back around, leaning against the lamppost, looking at Marcos.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Marcos says softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Key adds, walking over. “What are you two up to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely nothing,” Marcos says, toneless and dull, and El smiles faintly. “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you two want to go grab pizza?” El offers. “I’ll have to drop my stuff off or something, but I can be quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key shrugs and twists his lips into something that’s almost a smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Marcos says softly. “I mean… Sof, can you handle everything here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Em, go ahead,” Sofie says distractedly, still focused on her book. “Leah can help me out until Zach shows up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could…” Key mumbles, then stops himself, taps out a message on his phone, and stares at the screen for a few seconds. “El, we could load your stuff in with ours, if you wanted. You could pick it up later, or tomorrow, or something. If you wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” El says. “That’d be helpful. You’re sure it’s no trouble?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Raven already said it was fine,” Key adds, quiet and unsure, the way he gets when he realizes he doesn’t know how someone is going to react.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So they drop El’s things off with Raven and Nicky, who, honestly, mostly seem happy that Key is making friends, since he’s a bit of a loner most of the time, nose stuck in a book, mind a million miles away, and Sofie drags Leah over to hang out while they wait for Zach to come with the van, and the teenagers leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walk the seven blocks to the pizza place -- it’s not the closest one, but Ale maintains that it’s the best, and it’s the cheapest, so it works -- and finally settle onto stools at the metal counter, with slices of pizza and cans of soda.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key, unsurprisingly, flips through a book as he eats, since he does not like starting conversations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you going to do after the break ends?” Marcos asks El, chasing his question with a gulp of soda that burns at his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” El admits. “Go back to school, I guess. I can’t work then, so I think I’m done with selling, at least until the next break.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marcos normally doesn’t have abrupt ideas -- that’s more Ale’s thing. Marcos is normally a planner, and he thinks everything through. But El is different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you could come work with us,” Marcos offers tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Key finally puts his book down to give Marcos an indecipherable look, then signs something unintelligible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know sign, Key,” Marcos reminds him. “And, uh, El, I mean, I’d have to ask my family and all, but… I don’t know. We could probably use another set of hands, especially with school starting up again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you have a class pardon?” El asks him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, basically,” Marcos says. “We work, so they let us get away with absences as long as we still turn in work. Key hasn’t been to a class in -- what, six months? -- and he’s still the best student in our grade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think they’d give out a class pardon to a student like me,” El says. “But thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if you come over to my place sometime this week? I could show you our hives, you could stay for dinner, we could ask my family about it, and you could spend some more time with other people from the market,” Marcos offers. “You don’t have to, I mean, but my mama makes the best soup you’ll ever have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>El nods, suddenly very quiet. They talk as they finish eating, exchanging ideas and stories and information, and El smiles and makes them all laugh until they have to go home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. lost control of all of my words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dinner at the Sosa house is an experience, to say the least. Even for simple family dinners, Sofie is usually working, and Ale is loud and wild and drags Danny and Marcos into pointless arguments, and Maria and Zach no longer even try to keep meals civilized.</p><p>When the kids bring people over for dinner, it’s always something new.</p><p>Tonight’s dinner is crowded, with nine people crushed around the table.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dinner at the Sosa house is an experience, to say the least. Even for simple family dinners, Sofie is usually working, and Ale is loud and wild and drags Danny and Marcos into pointless arguments, and Maria and Zach no longer even try to keep meals civilized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner is the only meal they eat as a family. Most of them are out at lunchtime, working, and breakfast is a toss up, since they all keep odd hours and work rotating shifts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the kids bring people over for dinner, it’s always something new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight’s dinner is crowded, with nine people crushed around the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lancasters show up with Sofie, late in the afternoon, with a bundle of flowers and a small potted plant that they offered to Maria and Zach, leaving the plant on the sill and putting the flowers in a vase on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really didn’t have to,” Maria says, and Leah shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandpa always says to bring something when we’re guests,” Jack says with a smile. “It’s no problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then,” Maria says. “Thank you, and you can run off with the rest of my kids now, but I’m sending you home with honey, since you brought such nice flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie, for the first time in two weeks, leaves her computer in the other room when she joins them at the dinner table, and she ends up squeezed in between her twin brother and Leah, who are having a competition with Jack to see who can build the highest free-standing tower of silverware.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos and Hollis sit at the end, with Danny, trying to uphold a calm and civilized conversation despite the yelling from the other teenagers. Sofie is laughing with Leah and Ale, and Jack is accusing someone of cheating, and Zach has decided to build his own tower, so Maria has busied herself in the kitchen, away from the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before food is served, when they’re all still sitting around the table, screaming and laughing and smiling brightly, Hollis disappears to help Maria in the kitchen. They offer their help with a quiet smile and an unspoken </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to be with the others right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she gladly accepts their offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos and Sofie start folding shapes out of their napkins, and Leah has made half a dozen paper clip creations, and the doorbell suddenly rings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get it!” Ale yells, nearly falling out of his chair as he runs to get the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returns with Ru, both of them beaming, and Maria simply looks at her son, sighs at the realization that their is another child in her house now, and tells Ale to get her a chair while she hands Danny a place setting for the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna help me?” Ale asks Ru, gesturing at his stack of cutlery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Ru says with a shrug, then slots two forks together and places them on the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we win yet?” Ale asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sof, help me,” Leah says, nudging her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ale, why are you taking my silverware?” Danny complains, and Ale doesn’t even look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zach laughs, smiles, and leaves the table to help Maria and Hollis bring out the food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disassemble your towers, please,” Maria says, serving food to people. “Marcos, go grab water, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos nods, gets a pitcher of water from the kitchen, and brings it back to the table. Ale is still trying to add to his tower, and Jack is arguing with him as his baseball cap slips into his eyes, and Ru has buried her face in her hands as she laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos and Sofie exchange a look as Ale takes one look at Sofie and gives her a smile like sunshine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leah takes apart her tower, returning the silverware to her and Sofie’s places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Leah adds, pressing something small into Sofie’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Sofie asks. She glances down, and sees a small paper clip flower in her hand, twisted and shaped neatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time,” Leah adds softly, leaning in to whisper to Sofie while the others are distracted, “I’ll bring you a real flower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie blushes faintly, then smiles, her freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks as she does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alejandro,” Maria says, taking her seat across from him, then switching into Spanish as she talks. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re going to have a discussion about telling me when you bring people over.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Ale says with a sheepish smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Maria,” Ru says. “I didn’t mean to impose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Maria says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>passerotto</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ru says softly, leaning her head on Ale’s shoulder. “Think things through next time, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both know I don’t do that,” Ale counters and Ru laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s work been?” Marcos asks Hollis softly, down at the other end of the table, where the quiet still forms a slight buffer between them and the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hollis says. “I get to talk about plants, so it’s pretty cool. People like buying stuff from me because I’m a kid, Leah thinks, and because I get excited about plants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice,” Marcos says with a smile. “Have you finished all your library books yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost,” Hollis says. “Leah borrowed two of them, so I still haven’t read those, and I’m working on one about the subway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds cool,” Marcos says, and Hollis nods excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale drags Marcos into his dumb argument, and before the yelling starts up in full force again, Marcos hears Danny offer to bring Hollis around with him on his shift through some of the hives, and catches the bright smile on the kid’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ale,” Marcos says, toneless and tired. “Ale, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> how many forks it would take to sink a ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want to know,” Ale protests, and Marcos just fixes him with a half-hearted glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think I know?” Marcos asks, and Ale shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie and Leah are talking quietly, scribbling on a scrap of paper and tapping something into Leah’s phone, and Marcos is too tired to ask what they’re doing. There is so much happening at the table that they’ve all pretty much given up on following any conversations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“21,408,” Leah announces, after enough time has passed that everyone is confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Danny says, and Jack just points over at Danny and nods to agree with the sentiment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“21,408 forks,” Sofie says. “In a rowboat. You’re welcome, idiot,” she adds, pushing her brother’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are such nerds,” Ale says, and Sofie shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Leah says, and Sofie smiles as Leah throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into an awkward half-hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you all done eating?” Maria asks, when the arguments and loud conversations have settled down, and the last people with food on their plates have settled for nudging it around in circles with their silverware.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m done,” Ale says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see that,” she teases him, and he sticks out his tongue like a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, if you’re all done eating,” Maria says, “get out of here. Go watch something, or play a game. Out of my dining room, all of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kids laugh and smile as she shoos them out, and Danny and Marcos and Ru and Hollis all offer to help with cleaning up, but she refuses, saying she and Zach can handle it, so they trail after the rest of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the adults clear the table and do the dishes, the kids pile into the big family room, crowded onto couches and sprawled across the floor with pillows and blankets. Sofie and Ale wrestle over the remote for half a minute before Marcos simply stands up and clicks the television on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we watching?” Jack asks, picking Hollis up and depositing them into the armchair, then settling down against the chair, back leaning on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie shrugs, conceding the remote to her brother and settling back onto a pile of cushions with Leah, a blanket thrown over their laps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Who,” Ale announces, and Leah cheers. Hollis and Sofie both smile faintly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which Doctor?” Jack asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dan?” Ale asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thirteen,” Danny says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He thinks she’s cute,” Ale whispers to Ru, who smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Episode?” Sofie asks. “Call out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witchfinders,” Jack says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kerblam,” Ale offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t seen the Thirteenth Doctor yet,” Hollis says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First episode,” Leah says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Ale agrees, clicking through the menu and turning on the first episode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the intro plays, Ale is yelling about something in Spanish, and Leah is signing with Hollis, and Jack is complaining about the illogical actions of every character ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, because you would be so logical when confronted with </span>
  <em>
    <span>aliens</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Leah shoots back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Jack argues back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, please, tell us what you would do when aliens showed up,” Leah implores, and doesn’t stop until Jack throws a pillow at her head, which she ducks, and it hits Ale, which starts a wild mess of throwing things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over to the side of the room, where Hollis is still seated sideways in the armchair, Jack having abandoned his spot to get in the thick of the pillow war, Hollis and Marcos are sitting calmly, watching the show, and Ru slowly picks her way out of the mess of teenagers screaming at each other to join them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are they doing that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jack yells again, his attention shifted away from the fight, which has paused, to glare at the television. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who touches things like that?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale adds some more yelling in Spanish, then nods along with Jack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you found a random thing in the woods,” Ale starts, vision flickering between Marcos and Sofie and Ru, “would you just press your palm against it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Leah says immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie hits her shoulder gently, then laughs. “Lee, you would die immediately if any of this was real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Leah agrees, immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I would like, poke it,” Ru says. “One finger. No more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” Jack yells. “Thank you, Ruthie. You’re my favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me Ruthie,” Ru says. “Nobody calls me Ruthie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ru.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ru.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Jack says, then proceeds to hit his sister with a pillow again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria walks into the room for a second, sighs very deeply, hands chocolate to Hollis and Marcos and Ru, who are the only ones sitting calmly, and then leaves, with a look like she regrets letting them all into their home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get through four episodes of the show, with enough yelling that they need to turn captions on, before Leah seems to suddenly process the time and curses softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack, Lis, it’s late. We need to get home,” she says. “Grab your stuff, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, guys,” Jack calls, picking Hollis up out of the chair and ushering them to the door. “Thanks for having us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leah hangs back in the doorway for a second, presses a kiss to Sofie’s cheek, then runs off after her brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you, Sof,” Leah calls after her, and Sofie smiles faintly and blinks as the door closes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>See you, Sof,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Maze whispers in her ear, leaning over her shoulder, and she yelps, unaware he was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Marcos,” she says, and he only grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mami, can Ru stay the night?” Ale yells from the other room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep in the family room,” she calls back, then adds a bit in Spanish that causes Ale’s ears to burn red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danny leaves to go to sleep in his room, and Ale and Sofie and Marcos and Ru stretch out in the room again to watch another episode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning finds the four of them still asleep there, Ru and Ale on opposite ends of the couch, legs tangled together, Sofie sideways in the chair Hollis had previously occupied, head lolling back, and Marcos curled up on the floor under a blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Danny nearly trips over Marcos, then laughs, then wakes them up and annoys Sofie and Marcos into making a batch of pancakes, since Ale is banned from the kitchen since </span>
  <em>
    <span>the incident</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which they do not speak of, though it involved a lot of yelling and ended with scorch marks on half their possessions.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. if the clouds get heavy and start to fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Goddamn it,” Ale yelps, yanking his hand back from the patch of flowers.</p><p>“You would think you would be used to it by now,” Marcos teases, and Ale gives him an annoyed look.</p><p>“Why do you never get stung?” he accuses his younger brother.</p><p>“I do,” Marcos says. “I just don’t react like it’s my first time.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Goddamn it,” Ale yelps, yanking his hand back from the patch of flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would think you would be used to it by now,” Marcos teases, and Ale gives him an annoyed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you never get stung?” he accuses his younger brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Marcos says. “I just don’t react like it’s my first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale sticks out his tongue at his little brother, and Sofie jogs over with a bright smile, fingers tugging at her suspenders as she nears them, needing something to occupy her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get stung?” she asks, immediately recognizing the look on his face, and he scowls at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says, not even close to sounding believable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them are gathered off on the edge of the Lancasters’ farm, just outside the big greenhouse, where the flowers grow wild and bees buzz around, flitting between the colorful blooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale had called their mother, taken the afternoon off working, and the three of them headed out with the Lancasters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos is checking on the bees, and Ale is apparently just hurting himself, and Sofie had run off with Leah to go look at something cool, and, judging by the moss and bark scraped across the knees of her jeans and her elbows, ended up climbing a tree. Marcos is currently waiting for Hollis to come by, because they have about a thousand questions about the bees, and Ale is texting Ru and Ben and Winnie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leah runs over, fidgeting with a coil of wire that she twists and shapes around her fingers, and catches Sofie’s wrist, leaning over to say something in hushed tones. Sofie smiles and nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re heading out,” Sofie announces, with a half wave to Ale and Marcos. “Don’t leave without me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Ale asks, looking up suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raven’s,” Sofie says, as Leah pulls a yellow flower out from somewhere and tucks it behind Sofie’s ear, where it tangles into her long hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to be home by dinner,” Ale reminds her, and she nods, then runs off with Leah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sofie comes back, three hours later, with Leah and Raven, her hair is braided neatly around her head in a crown, the same yellow flower tucked into the plait, and the three of them all wear bright smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie is eating half of a roll, and Leah has a croissant in the pocket of her hoodie, and Raven is rolling her eyes as Leah continues what seems to be a very long tangent about the fabric of reality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sofie refuses to tell Ale and Marcos where she’s been, or what they were doing, and Marcos just shrugs and sneaks her a knowing smile that she pulls an annoyed face at before flashing a smile like summer sun at him. Ale whines about how they’re twins and she’s morally obligated to tell him until Leah hits him in the back of the head, light enough to barely feel it, but it’s enough to get Ale distracted and yelling about something else, which, based on Leah’s grin, was the entire goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale has half a dozen bee stings on his arms that he won’t stop complaining about, and Hollis is sitting in the dirt, staring in wonder at a bee perched on one of their outstretched fingers, and Marcos and Jack are talking about sales off in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were thinking about trying to outsource marketing,” Marcos tells Jack. “Pass some honey on to other businesses for them to sell, folks like the Aspernes and Ru and the farm kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds smart,” Jack says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have we traded around business cards?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack shrugs. “If we did, I probably lost them,” he admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Marcos says, rummaging through his pockets until he finds a card with a drawing off a bee and neat lettering, which he passes to Jack. “I should have yours. We’ll all trade around at the market, pin them up? It’s a bit of free advertising, promoting our local sibling businesses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get to be such an entrepreneur?” Jack asks with a smile, tucking the card away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He stole all the talent from the rest of us,” Ale jokes, and Marcos hits his arm, which starts Ale on another tangent of complaining about his bee stings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle into the Lancasters’ house after a while, and the kids all crowd around a table with a deck of cards and play a couple hands of gin while Jack tries to juggle a handful of jelly beans and fails miserably, scattering the brightly colored candies across the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos and Hollis talk about the bees for a while, then talk about flowers and succulents and trees, and Hollis knows more than anyone their age should know, and Marcos likes talking with them despite the strange tension in their posture that Marcos can’t figure out the source of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has anyone seen Mal or Cyr?” Marcos asks softly in the morning, at the greenmarket, just before opening, when he’s kneeling on the cracked cobblestones beside the table to speak with Hollis, who has tucked themself into the space underneath with a book. Marcos glances up to Leah and Jack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The siblings both shake their heads, and Hollis gnaws at the edge of their thumbnail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hollis says quietly, with an edge of something Marcos can’t place. Marcos wants to ask another question, he really does, but there’s this look in Hollis’s eyes like there’s something they can’t speak of, and Hollis’s fingers tremble as they tap patterns on their knee and bite at their skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Marcos, you have to head out now, alright?” Jack says, coming up behind Marcos to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We can talk later.” The corner of Marcos’s lips twist towards a frown, but he nods and ducks out of the tent, continuing his winding route through the market.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Key and Raven and Nicky have no idea where the boys are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Key says softly, with a gentle hand grasping Marcos’s fingers. “I’ll find you if I hear anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” El asks, when he overhears Marcos talking to some of the adults who work around the market, most of whom don’t know any of the kids by name, so Marcos has been giving vague descriptions and showing photos around. The photos are less than helpful, since they’re mostly blurry or have enough of the market kids in them that the people point over at Hollis or Key and say, </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>They’re right there,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> like Marcos is an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malachi and his little brother. They hang around here, mostly, but I haven’t seen them,” Marcos says. “Cyr sells art and Malachi offers to help people haul things around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe they’re just busy,” El offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ru and Winnie, working down at the farm table, haven’t seen them, nor have any of the other farmers there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Mrs Madison,” Marcos greets, stepping up to a tent selling jams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Marcos,” the woman greets him warmly, tucking long silvered hair behind her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen Malachi or his brother recently?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not since last Tuesday,” she says. “Sorry, Marcos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks anyway, Mrs Madison,” Marcos says softly, and runs off with a faint wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ale is down at the far end, asking around, since he knows practically everyone, but he isn’t worried, not really, not like Marcos is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re overreacting,” Ale tells him, when he catches his arm as he runs past. “They’re probably fine. Just call them or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have their numbers,” Marcos says. “And what if something happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You worry too much,” Ale says, which is definitely true, but Marcos can’t do anything about the panic that swells softly in his chest and bubbles out the longer he goes without answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” a boy says, around Marcos’s age, as he walks through the people gathered off on the end, just past the farmers’ market, where Cyr and the other people that Marcos doesn’t know as well gather to sell their things. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Marcos says. “Just looking for a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want some help?” he offers. “I’m here a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. I’m Marcos,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aydan,” the other boy says, messy curls of dark brown hair bobbing as he glances around. “My sister is around here somewhere. Are you here working?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I work in the greenmarket,” Marcos says. “You?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister and I sell art.” He glances around, then climbs up onto a ledge. “One second. Nya! C’mere!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A girl who looks almost exactly like Aydan, though she has long hair and electric blue eyes and turquoise streaks in her hair, jogs over with a smile. “Yeah, Ay?” she says, then turns to Marcos. “Hi. I’m Nya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nya, I’m going to help him look for his friend. Watch the stall?” Aydan asks. Nya nods, and Aydan and Marcos step out into the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Marcos says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s your friend?” Aydan asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malachi. And Cyrus,” Marcos says. “Cyrus usually sells around here, but nobody’s seen him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember him,” Aydan says. “Nya hangs out with him sometimes. He makes cool art. He hasn’t been around in a while, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Marcos says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen Will? Or Liza? Scrawny little kid, runs around with Mal and Cyr and a twelve year old florist kid. Young woman, long blonde hair, bright grin, always with Mal,” Marcos says, faster than any normal person would be able to process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not recently,” Aydan says, then pauses and starts rustling through his messenger bag. He pulls out a little rectangle of cardstock and presses it into Marcos’s hand. “I have to get back, and I think the greenmarket’s opening, but I hope this helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Marcos says, but by the time he finishes talking, the boy is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances down at the card in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson, The Urban Art Initiative</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Drawings, Paintings, and Sketches</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(917)-733-9575</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He dials the number, listening to the faint </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of each number, and presses his thumb to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>start call</span>
  </em>
  <span> button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rings for the entire time it takes him to walk back to where Sofie is sitting at their table in the market, then clicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is Cyrus. I can’t come to the phone right now, but thanks for calling. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Beep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos tries not to let the anxiety swallow him as he talks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cyr, it’s Marcos. Just wondering where you’ve been, I guess. Give me a call, or a text or something? Sorry to bother you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Sofie says from beside him. “You doing okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says. “I get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m tired,” he says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can head home, Em,” she says. “Ale and I can handle this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to be doing something,” he says. “Searching for Mal and Cyr isn’t turning up anything, so I need to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go help El or Key or something?” Sofie suggests. “You need to be out of your head for a little while, and it’d do you some good to hang around with your friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos is too tired to argue that he barely knows El, that he probably shouldn’t count El as a friend just yet, because that feels presumptive. He thinks all of that, but he doesn’t have the energy to piece it together into words, so he just nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure you’ll be okay here?” Marcos asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sofie says. “Go on. I’ll be right here if you need anything, and you can always call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives her a quick hug and a faded smile. “Thanks, Sof. You’re the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds his way over to El’s table and sits down next to the boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” El says, seeming faintly surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Marcos says. “Want a selling partner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the price?” El asks. “Aren’t we rivals or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos shrugs. “Half your profits,” he offers. “And some conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good enough,” El says with a smile. “Did you find your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Marcos says, as the familiar almost-frown twists its way across his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” El says, and Marcos nods, wishing he had that kind of confidence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sell half a dozen jars of honey by the time Key ducks out of his tent and leans against the table on his palms as the lull sets in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Key says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heya,” El says with a bright grin. “Marcos is helping me with sales.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he is,” Key says. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at something that Marcos can’t quite see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need a nickname,” El tells Marcos abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need a nickname,” he repeats. “I’m El. He’s Key. You need a nickname.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, good luck with that,” Marcos laughs. “My siblings have been trying to give me a nickname for seventeen years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet we can do it,” El says, and Key gives a soft little laugh and slips off back to his tent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you propose as a nickname for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marcos</span>
  </em>
  <span>, exactly?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your full name?” El asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I tell you?” Marcos counters. “Besides, it doesn’t count if it’s a nickname of my middle name, because Danny’s been calling me Zori since I was five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Ellis Kessler,” El says, then sticks out his hand in a mock formality. “Your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marcos Zoraida Sosa,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maze,” El says softly, then repeats it louder. “Maze. Marcos Zoraida.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos smiles faintly. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Maze. I like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re not the only one missing out on a nickname,” El says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos nods distractedly, his vision drifting, and he notices what it was that Key was looking at earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the way, in the Lancasters’ tent, Hollis is seated under the table. This isn’t necessarily strange in and of itself. What is strange, however, is that Hollis is sitting under the table, playing solitaire. Hollis plays cards with Will and Cyr. It’s just what they do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Will and Cyr don’t show up, Hollis waits. Hollis always waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have to know something, Marcos thinks, but he’s drawn out of his listless mind by El’s hand on his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” El asks. “You went somewhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Marcos mumbles. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos eventually drifts back over to his family’s stall, sitting between Sofie and Ale, half of his and El’s profits tucked into his back pocket. (“Even giving you half my profits, this is easily twice what I normally make,” El tells him as he stands to leave, and Marcos shrugs and tells him to try to look less like a delinquent, which makes El smile.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Marcos tries not to think. Sofie talks to him about school, and Ale manages to spend fifteen minutes saying something about pigeons, and they field customers easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When pack up rolls around, and then ends, he doesn’t see much of his friends. The Aspernes have to be somewhere, apparently, and the Lancasters are gone before Marcos even notices, and El waves as he climbs onto his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow, Maze,” El calls after him, and Maze smiles faintly and waves and pretends Ale doesn’t grab his shoulders and shake him senseless and tease him the whole way home, but it keeps him distracted.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. an assortment of things i'd like to forget</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cyrus Elliot Samson has been drawing as long as he can remember.</p>
<p>When he is six or seven, Malachi gives him a sketchpad and a set of pencils and tells him he should draw the images that dance around in his head. So Cyrus Elliot Samson starts to draw, and he never stops.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Stop trying to play the ace on the nine,” Will accuses, swatting Cyr’s hand away. “You’re still not allowed to do that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyr frowns, sticks out his tongue, and slaps down a six onto the small stack of cards in the middle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them are crowded under the big table in the Lancasters’ tent, Hollis’s deck of cards shuffled and dealt, and they’re playing a currently unnamed card game that they had made up the week before, and Will maintains that Cyr is trying to cheat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Six black spades glare up at them from the top of the deck. Hollis puts down the queen of hearts, slow and soft and gentle. Hollis doesn’t act like they’re going to win, ever, and yet they always do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Will says, and Cyr smacks him in the back of the head, light and teasing and just enough to ruffle his messy hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Language, Will,” Cyr chides, and Will sticks out his tongue at the older boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You act like Mal and Liz don’t spend every waking minute cursing about something,” Will says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt that Liza does that,” Cyr says, because he can’t argue that his brother doesn’t do that, because Mal decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>does.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “And anyway, Mal and Liza are adults. You’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You suck,” Will says, and Cyr just shrugs as he picks up the cards and starts shuffling them between his fingers mindlessly. Hollis won, again, as always, and Cyr doesn’t care, and he’s mostly just glad that he managed to keep Will distracted from that, because they’re caught in the lull of the market right now, but that doesn’t mean that Leah and Jack won’t kick them out if they start screaming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s school?” Cyr asks Will and Hollis, mainly to fill the quiet with something other than the noise of the cards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“School,” Will says, and Cyr smiles. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good,” Hollis says with a soft smile. “I like the topics. Some of the kids aren’t great, but I don’t see them much, because it’s Tuesday today and I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re here every day,” Cyr says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s actually almost four in the afternoon, which is why Will is hanging around instead of busy in classes. Will gets picked up and brought over after he gets out of classes. Hollis works instead of going to school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody argues. They all know Hollis is far too smart for their grade anyway. Jack and Leah wanted them to stay in school, once they started staying with the Lancasters, but Hollis liked working in the market better, and they didn’t have most of the documentation they needed, and now Hollis does online classes that simply have work for them to turn in at the end of the day and the occasional video class to attend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyr’s done with school. He skipped a grade, graduated a year early. Now he’s taking a gap year, trying to make some money with Mal so he can go to art school. Cyr wants to make comics. Mal has always encouraged this brightly. Their parents did not</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their father died four years ago. Their mother is always out, working or busy or something else. They live in a dump of an apartment, but it doesn’t matter, since they’re barely there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next week is a school break. Cyr knows this because the rest of the market kids talk about it throughout the stalls, almost buzzing with information. Marcos mentions it in passing, tells Cyr that he’s working every day next week, even in the morning, because his siblings are taking college courses, which means they still have to do work. Key says he’ll be around more, when Cyr says they don’t talk often as Key greets him with a bright smile and they trade a small drawing for a bagel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will doesn’t stop talking about the break. Will is a happy kid, for the most part, with a bright smile and reckless optimism and far more energy than Cyr can even fathom, but Will doesn’t like school. He doesn’t like having to sit still and stare at a page for hours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the school break means for Cyr is that he’ll see more people who are close to his age working in the next week.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s getting late,” Mal tells his little brother. Cyr is on the ground beside his small table, drawing in a sketchpad that he has rested across his knees, charcoal pencil scritching across the paper and eraser tucked behind his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will is sitting on the table, legs swinging excitedly. Mal and Liza had been wandering, but now they’re standing in front of Cyr.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should head home soon,” Malachi adds. “People are almost finished packing up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Will hops off the table and runs off before any of them can stop him, and Liza just sighs and follows behind, waiting for him to be done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Will gets back from talking to Hollis, saying goodbye and that he’ll see them next week for sure and he’s excited, the four of them -- Cyr, Mal, Liza, and Will -- pile into Mal’s old van and head home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson has been drawing as long as he can remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t do much, as a kid, doesn’t get out much. He gets sick easily, when he is still little, and his brother is tasked with watching him, and they mostly just stay home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi is three years older than him. Malachi was adopted by their parents when he was two, right before they learned they would have a child of their own. Malachi Samson and Cyrus Elliot Samson look nothing alike, but they never once question it, and they grow up close and friendly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he is six or seven, Malachi gives him a sketchpad and a set of pencils and tells him he should draw the images that dance around in his head. So Cyrus Elliot Samson starts to draw, and he never stops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He draws people and places he sees, trees and buildings and flowers and bugs. He draws temples and skies and creatures that nobody else has ever dreamed of, stars and lights and planets and heavens beyond his imagination.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson draws, and he draws everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He starts out by sketching, then making still-messy art with pens and colors and paintings filled with deft brushstrokes. After years of watching him draw, watching him stack the art in drawers or give it to anyone who would take it, Malachi makes a suggestion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come to the market with me,” Malachi says. Malachi has always spent time hanging around the big greenmarket, in the old van that their parents had let him inherit, rusted metal and loud banging and sheets of duct tape balanced on repeatedly-replaced wheels. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi loves his van. The rest of the kids around the market, the ones who are Malachi’s age, the ones he talks to when the restlessness overwhelms, call his van </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Train.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nobody will claim their stake as the first one to call it that, but Malachi takes in the name with a bright grin and reckless acceptance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Plenty of people have booths and things set up down at the end, past the official market stalls,” Malachi says. “You could sell your art with the rest of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody would buy my art.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone will buy your art,” Malachi counters, and he leaves no room for argument as he brings his little brother to the market and helps him set up a stall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And they keep coming back, day after day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malachi Samson walks around and talks to people he knows and offers help with setting up or packing things away, offers to help haul things home for people, to give people rides home, all with a bright smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson sits at his little stall and sells his art, hands out cards to interested people, draws special requests for people, and the two brothers make money.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re always around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus meets a kid named Will, who is young enough that he probably shouldn’t be allowed to run off on his own, and a barely older kid named Hollis who works with a florist shop in the greenmarket, and they start to talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus meets new people, says </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cyr, call me Cyr</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though plenty of people call him Cy anyway. (Nobody calls him Cyrus, not even Mal.) He finds a group of friends, tentative friends, his age, people he can talk to. He meets Aydan and Nya who sell their art in the little offshoot of the market that everyone calls the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Artists’ Corral.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They meet Liza, who is apparently the older sister of Will, the little kid that runs around freely. Malachi and Liza are close, and Malachi won’t say if they’re dating, and Cyr suspects that it’s because Mal isn’t quite sure to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson has been drawing as long as he can remember. He has been selling his art in the market for three years, only a month after Malachi started to hang around, when he got his license, not that anyone ever stopped them to check, because for all that Mal’s van looks like an accident in progress, he actually drives well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson has been playing cards with Will and Hollis underneath one of the big tables when the lull sets in and the crowds fade away and they need something to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus Elliot Samson has been drawing and selling art and playing cards for as long as most of the kids in the market can remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cyrus and Malachi are always there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, they’re not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the kind of thing that happens suddenly, fast and abrupt and wild, but it isn’t noticed suddenly. The others realize slowly, when they think back and can’t remember seeing the brothers, when they look around and Hollis is alone under the table with the deck of cards and nobody can find Cyrus or Malachi or Will anywhere.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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